Doubt
by mburns31
Summary: What became of Sojiro after his battle with Kenshin? Rated R for violence.


Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or any of its characters. They're copyrighted by a bunch of people who aren't me. Hopefully they all have better things to do than make my life miserable for writing this story.  
  
Portions of this story contain spoilers for the Kyoto storyline of Rurouni Kenshin.  
  
***  
  
"Are you crying, boy?"  
  
The words echoed through the mind of the figure walking down the cobblestone road. Seemingly oblivious to all around him, he trudged forward, never bothering to look at his surroundings. The forest, the sounds of the animals, the wind blowing through the treetops, he paid no attention to any of these things. He ignored the apparent threat of rain from the gray sky, and simply walked onward, with no thought to seek shelter.  
  
He was an ordinary looking boy, almost, but not quite, having reached manhood. In fact, everything about him seemed ordinary, from his short black hair he wore without thought to any style, down to his well-worn sandals that had obviously seen quite a bit of traveling. His light blue robes were well made, though by no means exquisite. Even the sword he carried looked much like any other - it was certainly capable of killing, but it was not otherwise remarkable.  
  
Any illusion of ordinariness, however, was instantly dispelled the moment one looked into his eyes. They were the eyes of one who walked a razor's edge between life and death. And upon looking into his eyes, one knew right away that their own life hung in the balance as well.  
  
Those few he passed on the road gave him a wide berth, and he passed them by without so much as a word or a gesture. It was as though he did not see anyone, as though they did not exist.  
  
He could not remember when his journey had begun. He remembered leaving Kyoto, dimly. And the events before that - those that had prompted his journey - he recalled with absolute clarity. But the road itself, and the time that had passed on it, and everything that had happened since the start of his journey, was simply a blur.  
  
"If you are strong, you live. If you are weak, you die."  
  
Coming to a stop on the road, Sojiro spoke those words. He said them quietly, to himself. He did not know how many times he had said them, but he did not speak them now with the absolute confidence he once had. Indeed, he said them almost tentatively, as though he were testing them, seeing how they felt in his mouth, how they sounded when given life by his voice. Almost as if he were asking a question for the first time.  
  
There was no response. There was no one around to hear him speak.  
  
He resumed walking, staring down at the road as he had before. He had not received an answer. Perhaps there was no answer.  
  
How many had he killed, with that phrase... that... truth?... his only justification? Hundreds, certainly. He was strong, so he had lived. The ones he had killed were weak, so they had died. That was the only truth in the world. It was the only one he had ever needed.  
  
And yet...  
  
Suddenly, the calm of the road was shattered by a scream, followed quickly by another, and another, and sounds of battle, on the road, not far ahead.  
  
Sojiro's head snapped up. He began running toward the sounds.  
  
It was time to test that truth again.  
  
The road curved around a particularly thick stand of trees, and he rounded the bend in time to see the end of the battle he had heard begin such a short time ago. It had clearly not been much of a battle; a large group of well-armed bandits had ambushed a caravan with only a handful of guards. The guards all lay dead now, as well as most of the rest of the passengers in the caravan. He arrived just in time to see the last survivor skewered by the spear of a cruel-faced bandit.  
  
If you are strong, you live. If you are weak, you die.  
  
His sword flew from its sheath, and he charged the bandit, who also happened to be the closest to him. Taken by surprise, the thug attempted a clumsy block with his spear, but it was easily knocked aside and the bandit fell after being stabbed through the chest.  
  
weak.  
  
He quickly closed the distance with the next bandit, who swung at his head with his sword. Sojiro rolled underneath the swing and came to his feet inside his guard, gutting him with an upward slash as he did so.  
  
weak.  
  
Another man tried to stab him from behind, but Sojiro saw him out of the corner of his eye and effortlessly twisted out of the way, his sword moving in a half-circle with his body, sending the bandit's head flying from his shoulders.  
  
weak.  
  
Sojiro danced through the ranks of the thugs, easily avoiding all their attacks, never touched by a single weapon. He fought with incredible skill and precision. Every stroke of his sword was a killing blow. When only a few bandits remained, they panicked and tried to run, but his speed far outclassed theirs, and he mercilessly cut them down from behind.  
  
weakweakweakweakweakweakweakweakweakweakweakweakweak....  
  
And then, when no one remained alive, Sojiro froze. He surveyed the carnage, looking at the bodies of merchant and bandit alike. He looked at the wagons and their contents, the things that men had killed and died for. For a long time, he simply stood there, blood still dripping from his sword. Finally, he spoke.  
  
"The bandits were stronger than the merchants, so they lived and the merchants died."  
  
He sounded somewhat unsure of himself, as though he were just finding his voice, but he continued.  
  
"I was stronger than the bandits, so I lived and they died."  
  
He took a deep breath.  
  
"So this means... that Shishio-san was right. If you are strong, you live. If you are weak, you die."  
  
The edges of a smile played at the corner of his mouth.  
  
Suddenly, he heard a crash behind him, and he turned quickly, looking for another foe.  
  
Instead, he saw a small boy, leaning against one of the wagons. No more than a child, he had been trying to sneak away and had fallen against the gate.  
  
Sojiro advanced on the child, who stood paralyzed with fear. He stared at the child, curiously.  
  
"You are weaker than the bandits. And yet you lived, and they died."  
  
There was no emotion in Sojiro's words. He spoke as though he were considering a puzzle, one he might be able to solve if he simply looked at it the right way.  
  
"This means... that Himura-san was right. It is not simply strength that determines who should live and who should die. The strong... can... protect the weak?"  
  
The smile died on Sojiro's face before it was born. The child simply stared up at him, not daring to move. Sojiro looked over his head, simply talking to himself as if the child were not there.  
  
"But everyone I've killed... they were all weaker than me. I was strong, so I lived. They were weak, so they died. That is the one truth in this world."  
  
Another faint flicker of a smile passed over Sojiro's face... and vanished just as quickly.  
  
"But... but... When I fought Himura-san... He was clearly stronger than me."  
  
No longer cold and dead, Sojiro's voice betrayed a rising tide of emotion.  
  
"Himura-san was stronger than me. He proved it by beating me. And yet... He did not kill me!"  
  
And then Sojiro screamed, a scream of anguish and hate and even fear. His sword slipped from his hand and fell to the road, clattering against the cobblestones. At that moment, the child decided to run, and took off down the road, running for dear life. His departure went unnoticed by Sojiro, who collapsed against the wagon and sank to the ground, his scream finally trailing off into nothingness.  
  
"Are you crying, boy?"  
  
Shishio's voice echoed in his mind again. He had been crying, that night, though Shishio hadn't seen it. He had been crying, as he stood over the bodies of his family, the sword that had killed them still bloody in his hand. And he allowed the rain to wash the tears from his face, and he hid behind his smile again.  
  
That smile had served him well, as a child. When his uncle, or his cousins, had beaten him, at first he had cried. But they hated it when he did that, and it only made them angrier, and when they got angrier, they hurt him even more. But if he smiled after they beat him, they would stop.  
  
So he had learned to hide behind that smile - that smile completely devoid of any joy.  
  
Once, as a child, after his uncle had beaten him so badly he had to pick himself up out of a pool of his own blood, he smiled.  
  
During the first assassination he had performed for Shishio, looking into the terrified eyes of the person who knew he brought their death, he smiled.  
  
That night, after he had killed his uncle and his cousins, and Shishio had asked him if he was crying, he turned to him and smiled.  
  
His face would never wear that smile again.  
  
He knew his family had been weak. He knew that people who beat their children did so because *they* were weak, not because of any failing of the child. So, according to Shishio's philosophy, it was only right that they should die. So even when he was a child, after he had killed his only family, abusive though they were, Shishio would not let him cry.  
  
Sitting there huddled against the wagon, hugging his knees to his chest, Sojiro spoke, as the rain that had threatened all day finally began to fall.  
  
"Himura-san... If you'd found me back then, instead of Shishio... Would you have let me cry?"  
  
And then he was struck by curiosity.  
  
"If you'd found me, instead of Shishio... What would I have become?"  
  
And then, a new feeling, one Sojiro was not sure he had ever felt before, struck him.  
  
"What can I still become?"  
  
He remained there for a long time, sitting against the wagon, oblivious to the rain around him. 


End file.
